Pollination
by Sapphire Drizzle
Summary: In which Quillish Wammy attempts to explain the 'birds and the bees' to a certain dark-haired genius in the inevitable phase of adolescence. Rated T for slight awkwardness and mentions of things better left told by the professionals. Like Roger. One-Shot


**A/N:**** New story about childhood L and Watari, but this is more on the silly side and probably not as true to the characters in regards to keeping them in-character. xD Well, it was funnier in my head, but I still hope you enjoy! ****Read and review if you liked it! (And feel free to offer ideas for future stories)! **

**(Please keep in mind that it is a humorous fic so things probably wouldn't go this way, lol)**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. (Except maybe the random brunette with the braid in this story) :P**

* * *

Pollination

On one surprisingly pleasant day out in the courtyard during recess, Quillish discovered something he never took notice of before.

His favorite pupil, dare he say it, seemed _different_.

Now, the change was slight and nothing particularly unusual in the old man's eyes, but it was still there. For one reason or another, it happened to stand out to him at that very moment and he wondered how he hadn't seen it coming long ago. Moving his eyes to the child crouching beneath the tree, a book dangling loosely in his thin fingers, Quillish sat down on a bench a few meters away and observed him.

By the age of thirteen, L had grown several inches and though he was still slightly small for his age, Quillish noticed the change in the way in which the boy carried himself, as if his body was uncomfortable for him, as if he was to be extra careful in every move he should make. It was that newfound distance L had with himself that caused the old man to smile and understand.

Ah, the growing up phase. The most awkward, unpleasant, and uncomfortable time of a child's life in their transition to adulthood.

Puberty.

Quillish Wammy reminisced the days he had to go through this painful phase, long ago, and was silently grateful that he would never have to endure it again, not when he had come so far. He continued to watch the adolescent leaning against the tree now, his finger curled up to his lips as he read the pages in his lap with impressive speed. When he was sure nothing out of the ordinary would occur and that this was another usual recess for the boy, he turned away, only to look back again when he saw a young girl approach L.

The girl looked about L's age, brown hair pulled into a messy side braid, large hazel eyes, and Quillish couldn't remember her name at that moment, but he was sure he had seem her before… perhaps Roger was the one that had brought her to the orphanage, instead…

Quillish watched as the girl crouched down next to L, glancing at his book with a curious gaze as if to ask what he was reading, and the old man quirked an eyebrow at what happened next. Though most wouldn't have noticed, L had tensed at the girl's close presence, his grip on his book tightening and his lips biting down hard on his fingernail. Quillish had become good at reading the young boy's actions and expressions and caught on to the little things he did that expressed his emotions in the way he couldn't do so normally.

Needless to say, L was nervous.

It was a fascinating sight.

The girl appeared to be asking him questions, making small-talk, and seemed rather oblivious to the raven-haired genius's discomfort as he refused to reply and avoided looking at her directly trying to focus on his book. However, Quillish saw that as the minutes ticked by, he hadn't even flipped the page, obviously distracted by the pretty girl beside him. In fact, the old man even noticed a slight hue of pink coloring L's cheeks when the girl giggled, making his dark eyes widen and body freeze.

Quillish laughed quietly to himself. It was amusing to see the usual expressionless teen behave this way.

He didn't speak much to anyone, let alone _girls_, and not even now when one so eagerly wished to chat with him.

_"Clang—clang—clang!"_

When the bell rang and the kids in the courtyard began shuffling inside, the old man could literally see L deflate with relief as the girl beside him also got up and waved a good-bye to him. It was as if he wanted nothing more than to get out of his skin and hide somewhere forever, with the way his face was lightly flushed and ears on fire.

_Ah… maybe, it was time to… _

Standing up and walking to him, Quillish reached out and stopped the boy from going inside. L looked up at him questionably, his face eventually reducing to its usual pallor.

"Come by my office at the end of the day. I must discuss something with you," he commanded gently. L could only just nod in reply, and Quillish moved on, leaving the dark-haired teen even more puzzled than he started out.

* * *

The sun had diminished to a soft glow outside the window, its pink and yellow radiance painting the skies and allowing a sliver of the moon to appear against the dark blue of the atmosphere. It was a peaceful evening and Quillish wanted nothing more than to sketch out an idea for a new invention or take a nap; both sounded appealing to the usually busy old man.

A sudden rapping on his door jolted Quillish from his thoughts and an unexpected panic found itself in his chest. He remembered at once what he had said to L earlier in the day and knew exactly who was standing beyond his door. Having second thoughts about the whole ordeal, Quillish tried to man up and cleared his throat.

He needed to be prepared, for the fear of permanently scarring and/or traumatizing a child with this information—this was _not _something to take lightly.

"Come in," he commanded in his usual manner.

_Squeeaaak…_

The door opened slowly and a small raven-haired boy entered tentatively. His head was lowered, feet crammed into old, ratty sneakers, and hands drifting away from the doorknob, but his eyes had never left the old man sitting at the desk before him.

"Ah, L," Quillish started, somewhat cheerfully, only trying to lighten up the mood he had created for himself. "You remembered what I had told you. Good, take a seat."

L approached the chair in front of the old man's desk and hopped up, bringing his legs to his chest and dangling one arm over his knee while habitually nibbling on the other one. Though his face showed no true emotion, Quillish recognized a glint of curiosity in his large dark eyes, the same glint he had when he worked on a case for the police. Speaking of which, he needed to tell the boy that he was going to be transferred from the Wammy's House soon, but that was a topic for another time.

Quillish leaned in and crossed his arms over the desk.

"Do you know why I called you in, today?"

The boy was silent, his response an obvious 'no'.

"Tell me, how old are you now?"

L narrowed his eyes. Why was he asking him that? Surely, he already knew that piece of information. What could he possibly be trying to achieve?

"Approximately thirteen years and a quarter," L replied simply, but a hint of suspicion slipped out into his voice.

Quillish drummed his fingers lightly on the desk, not sure how to begin the actual lesson without making things more awkward than they already were. L was a smart kid—a _really_ smart kid. Hell, he was brilliant. But the question still remained. Would he prefer the more direct and scientific way? Or a metaphor he could easily, (or Quillish could hope), decipher for himself?

The old man inwardly groaned. This was much harder than he initially thought.

"L," Quillish began. "Have you been feeling sort of… _different _lately?"

"Define _different_."

Ah, yes, and L certainly wouldn't make things easier for the both of them, either.

Choosing his words carefully, he responded, "In regards to your body. You are close to the age in which some rather important changes occur and I must know whether or not they are happening."

L blinked.

Twice.

Which was very strange for the boy with the highest record in the staring contests at recess. Not that it was a great achievement.

Even so.

"Mr. Wammy? Where exactly is this going?" he asked, slipping his thumb out of his mouth and observing the old man skeptically

Sighing softly, Quillish thought for a moment on what he should say and decided it that perhaps it would be better to begin the way his uncle did when he explained this topic to him, some, forty-six years ago. Actually, maybe it wouldn't, since Quillish ended up very confused for a few weeks after the discussion, but he didn't have much of a choice.

"There comes a time, in every boy's life," Quillish spoke quickly, trying his hardest not to grimace at the memories. "When his body goes through several important changes in order to become a man. The phase in which these changes occur often begin at around your age and don't end until your body is fully mature."

Before Quillish could continue with his speedy explanation, L interrupted by raising his hand, the curious glint in his eyes growing.

"Mr. Wammy, what are these changes?" he asked, ingenuously, and the old man couldn't help but wince slightly at the blasted question. He was not cut out for this type of teaching. He would much rather be talking about machines or the functions of the human brain. And the fact that L was an incredibly bright child with many, many queries did not ease his mood.

Coughing discreetly into his hand, Quillish replied with, "Well… There are a few physical changes and a few mental changes. You may begin to feel an interest in the opposite gender at this age, or become nervous more quickly. You… _grow…_ Whether it be your height and weight, facial and body hair, reproductive organs…"

L tilted his head slightly at his words. "Reproductive organs…?"

And then it hit Quillish like a slap across the face. L had no idea at all. What was the matter with him, speaking so hastily as though this pubescent teen already knew what he was talking about? He needed to be clearer. He took a deep breath, trying to start over in order to address the main issue at hand.

"L… do you know what _sex_ is?"

The question as a simple one, albeit _too_ simple. He, obviously, was referring to the act between humans but of course, the boy in front of him saw it as a type of organism sort of word.

"Sex is _'either of the two major forms of individuals that occur in many species and that are distinguished respectively as female or male especially on the basis of their reproductive organs as well as the sum of the structural, functional, and behavioral characteristics_," the boy replied promptly, giving an exact dictionary definition.

A sigh.

It wasn't the answer Quillish was looking for, but it was a start.

"Correct…in _that _context, I suppose. But, do you know what the reproductive organs and their functions are?"

He was wading in deep water with this boy. L wrinkled his nose just slightly, the edges of his forehead coming together in a look of confusion and curiosity that made the old man see nothing but childish innocence in his usually blank features.

"…Not exactly. I came across a page in an encyclopedia about the conception of a human being, but I all I received from that information was a very brief summary of the female pregnancy. However, I am unsure of how a female becomes pregnant in the first place."

Oh, right, there were no books on the matter in the library for fear of misuse of the information, so there was no way anyone could have known unless they possessed the knowledge before they arrived to the orphanage. Unless they spoke with Roger.

"Also, it mentioned something about sperm cells and egg cells, so I can only assume they correspond with each sex. I only have a vague idea of which one is which."

Quillish rubbed at his temples. This was becoming more and more challenging. He tried to collect himself but L was already speaking again.

"Which leaves me with another question, Mr. Wammy," the boy said, unaware of the delicacy of the topic. "What are the reproductive organs on a male in contrast to a female?"

Ah. There it was. The thing Quillish wanted to avoid at all costs, in hopes that this genius detective had already figured this out for himself. It seemed even L was not as all-knowing as he let on and Quillish wanted to chuckle, despite the seriousness of the situation.

"So, you mean to tell me you've never had, 'The Talk?"

L tilted his head some more. "What talk? Is it a particular one?"

"...You have never been told the story of the 'Birds and the Bees'?"

"Story? No. Birds are feathered, winged, bipedal, endothermic, egg-laying, vertebrates while bees are flying insects closely related to wasps and ants, known for their role in pollination and for producing honey and beeswax," the boy replied. "I have not read nor listened to any specific stories concerning the two."

"I see..."

He knew that a more technical answer would please L but frankly, Quillish had no idea how to bestow that information in a manner in which the boy would understand the social interaction and limits of it all as well. In the end, he decided to play it safe and go with the metaphorical route, though he could not tell whether this way would be easier on him or for L.

"Well, then. You see, lad," Quillish said, slowly. "Birds are like girls and bees are like boys."

"Are they?" L questioned, chewing on his thumbnail. "I do not see the similarities, Mr. Wammy."

"Let me finish. When a bee goes to pollinate a plant, it is allowing the plant to reproduce and create flowers, the same way a man, erm, _pollinates_ a woman."

L blinked. He removed his thumb from his mouth and gaped at Quillish.

_"Men pollinate?"_

The old man carried on as if he had not heard him. "And when a bird lays an egg, it is because she was fertilized by the male bird's pollination, the same way a woman has a baby."

_"Women lay eggs?"_

There was more than just a look of disbelief and horror on his face.

"No, no, what I mean is…"

Quillish saw the direction in which the discussion was going and realized just how much L reminded him of himself long ago when he had the same talk. Though the raven-haired boy's confusion was much less pronounced than the old man's awful earlier days, it was there and it was growing. Growing very, very fast.

He sought to find a way to put out this wildfire before it became worse and knew he had to use his last resort.

"On second thought," he said, standing up and walking towards the door, ushering the boy to follow. "I know who is better suited for teaching this lesson."

The two stepped down the hallway until Quillish suddenly stopped and knocked on one of the doors. After a few moments of silence, the door opened, revealing another fairly tall old man who looked about the same age as Quillish. His gray hair was stuck up at odd angles and formed the perimeter of his very obvious bald spot. A pair of round glasses sat upon his nose and his mouth was set in a permanent line of disgruntlement.

"Roger," Quillish began, signaling to L. "This young man needs a proper lesson on the facts of life."

Roger grumbled loudly, massaging his forehead in exasperation, and looked down at Quillish's companion. L looked back up at him curiously, still a bit dazed from the earlier, and before he knew it, he was being pushed into the room with this Roger fellow.

"You owe me for this, Quillish," the annoyed old man muttered, earning a satisfied pat on the back from his friend.

"Remember," he gave Roger a relieved smirk. "Try not to be too crass. I don't want another child walking aimlessly through my building like they've seen a ghost."

With that, the manager of the Wammy's House turned around and walked down the hall, feeling a sense of happy accomplishment. That is, until he realized what he had just done and his features turned to dread.

* * *

The door closed. Roger sighed and looked back to face L, an extremely bored and irritated expression on his wrinkled visage. He walked back to the bookcase and pulled out several large diagrams, each with detailed illustrations and lengthy explanations.

L nearly lost his balance on the chair when his eyes caught sight of the diagrams, but Roger continued the lesson without a care .

"This is how it works," he drawled, reciting from his countless memories of scarring children.

He held up a diagram of a particularly disturbing image.

"When a man loves a woman…"

* * *

Things seemed fairly normal the next day, _as normal as the Wammy's House was, that is,_ and Quillish had thought, perhaps, for once, Roger's talk had gone swimmingly with his favorite pupil.

Oh, was he _wrong_.

L had gone the entire morning without any sort of sweets and the paleness of his skin compared to the stark white of a bed sheet. He walked with much more distance from others than usual and the slightest surprise could knock him off his feet. When approached by the kind old man who wished to question his well-being, he murmured something about "horrifying stories" and left it at that.

At recess, when the girl with the braid and hazel eyes had come up to talk to him again, he had backed up away from her, leg hovering above the ground and ready to kick, yelling, "No! I don't want to pollinate you!"

Quillish had sighed deeply. He had trusted Roger to clear up that misunderstanding but it turned out that he only made matters worse. He had reminded himself to hire an actual sexual education teacher and set up a real classroom for it, rather than depend on the man who despised children to tell them the facts of life.

Eh. Ah, well.

At least L was finally talking to girls.

Not the ones he considered birds, that is.


End file.
